


Mastery

by gemjam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Dom/sub, M/M, Sub Peter Hale, Subspace, Werewolf Healing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 17:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17228051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: Peter’s body heals before his mind comes back down, and it’s always such a disorientating feeling.





	Mastery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [platypusesrneat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/platypusesrneat/gifts).



> Ficlet fill for _platypusesrneat_ who wanted _sub Peter and soft Dom Stiles._

Peter’s body heals before his mind comes back down, and it’s always such a disorientating feeling. There are no rope burns on his wrists from where he was writhing against being tied to the bed. There are no bruises on his hips from where Stiles held him down and fucked roughly into him. There’s no soreness in his hole from where he was stretched wide around Stiles’ fingers, fucked with his fist and then his cock until he felt like he was going to lose his mind. There’s no evidence that any of it was real, and yet his mind is still there, floating on endorphins and subspace and love.

He wants to cry that his body has forgotten it all so quickly. It makes him start to drop, but Stiles is right there, wrapping the blanket around his naked body that he so lovingly cleaned with a warm washcloth, pulling him in close so that Peter’s head rests against his chest. His heart beats strong and steady beneath Peter’s ear, an unescapable metronome that drowns everything else out, reminding him of the only thing that matters. Stiles is all-consuming and all Peter has to do is be his.

Stiles’ hands smooth up and down Peter’s arms, over his back, until he feels the utter surrender return to Peter’s body. He reaches down, taking hold of Peter’s wrist oh-so-gently and kissing the spot where the marks should if Peter’s body didn’t reject what they’d done like an autoimmune disease. Stiles treats it as though it’s tender and raw though, lips brushing over with loving apologies and so much care that it makes Peter want to cry for a completely different reason, one he doesn’t shy away from.

Stiles repeats the action with the other wrist, offering it just as much care and attention, unlocking some place inside Peter. The aftercare ritual is so important for more than just his body. Stiles replaces Peter’s hands beneath the blanket, keeping him cosy and warm as his fingers trail lower, touching hips where the imprints of his fingers should be. He smooths over them, soothing the ache that doesn’t exist.

“This is all mine,” he whispers into Peter’s ear.

Peter nods, a whine escaping his throat as he presses himself closer to Stiles.

“No matter what.”

It sends a fresh wave of dopamine through Peter’s body, making him tingle, the inside of his mind a wonderful warm blank in which Stiles can paint himself so effortlessly. Peter doesn’t need it on his skin when he has that.


End file.
